Hotel California
by Ladydragon Guinevere
Summary: A ‘Supernatural’ songfic inspired by ‘Hotel California’ from ‘The Eagles’. Takes place somewhere during season 1. Rated M to be on the safe side, but NO slash/Wincest.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I've only seen the first season so far, so forgive__ me if anything's… out of the ordinary or maybe even familiar-sounding._

_A/N: Dean's thoughts are in italics, as well as the original lyrics._

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* * *

_

"**Hotel California" **

**Part I**

**By Lady(dragon) Guinevere**

_On a dark desert highway,  
Cool wind in my hair,  
Warm smell of "colitas"  
Rising up through the air,  
Up ahead in the distance  
I saw a shimmering light,  
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim,  
I had to stop for the night.  
__  
_Its engine purring like a satisfied kitten, the black Impala cruised through a dark desert highway. Dean and Sam Winchester had been on the road all day and the desert heat was getting to them. The fabric of their attire clung to their bodies, hot and sticky. Beads of sweat gathered on their foreheads and slowly trickled down over their faces.

Loosely guiding the steering wheel with his right hand, Dean's left elbow rested in the window frame while his fingers gently touched the roof of the car. He could feel the cool wind in his hair, finally the blistering hot day was about to give in to the chilly night. A warm, sweet scent made him flare his nostrils. Recognizing the scent from previous 'work visits' to these desert parts, he furrowed his brow when trying to recall the name of the plant responsible for it.

"They're called 'Colitas'." Sam responded to Dean's thoughts before he'd even had a chance to phrase the question.

"You know, your psychic abilities are starting to freak me out, Sammy." Dean gave Sam a disturbed look.

"It's called 'body language', Dean. I was just reading your facial expression, that's all." Shaking his head, Dean slouched back into his seat.

A response was about to tumble from Dean's plump lips, when he saw a shimmering light in the distance. His head grew heavier by the minute and his sight grew dim, he knew he'd lose his focus soon. He had to stop for the night, because he was responsible for one more person besides himself: Sammy.

Thankful the hotel wasn't a mirage, Dean drove the car through the gravel covered parking place. Next to a silver coloured, classic Mercedes Benz, he came to a halt and turned off the humming engine. Grabbing their duffel bags from the backseat, Dean and Sam got out of the humid seats and stretched out their stiffened bodies. Opening up the trunk, Dean got out a few supplies just in case.

With one arched eyebrow he appraised the place they were about to enter. The old mission style house had had better days, judging by the looks of the peeled off paint and rotten shutters.

His eyes gliding over the once bright coloured name sign, Sam read its name out loud. "Hotel California."

Smirking, Dean replied, "Very original…"

"Can you spell 'free ride'?"

"You know, this one actually *looks* like the one on the album cover, for a change."

"Let's just hope they're not trying to 'kill the beast' so we can get a decent night of sleep for once." Referring to the lyrics of 'Hotel California', Sam longed those words weren't meant *literally*.

"It's a shame the Eagles are still alive, you know?" While he opened up the front door, Dean gave Sam a broad grin.

"I thought you *liked* The Eagles?" Sam said to Dean's back while they ambled towards the reception desk.

"Yeah man, don't you get it? Just imagine…" Sparks gave Dean's green eyes a golden glow, as he gestured at an imaginary sign. "The Eagles' ghosts, performing here live for your entertainment, every evening from now until eternity. They can check out anytime they like…"

"But they can never leave." Snickering, Sam finished Dean's sentence and eyed his brother until Dean's eyes glad past his appearance onto something behind him. Abruptly, he turned himself around to follow Dean's stare.

_There she stood in the doorway,  
I heard the mission bell  
And I was thinkin' to myself :  
"This could be heaven and this could be hell"  
__Then she lit up a candle,  
And she showed me the way,  
There were voices down the corridor,  
I thought I heard them say…_

_  
_Just behind the reception desk, the doorway framed a dark-haired, attractive looking woman dressed in a white, breezy dress. As she approached the desk, the mission bell suddenly rang by itself. For a brief moment, Sam and Dean took their eyes off the woman standing in front of them and gave each other a meaningful look.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean asked Sam.

Sighing, Sam answered, "Heaven or hell, Dean."

"Before hell unleashes, I'm gonna get me some heaven anyway." One arm resting on the reception desk, Dean turned to look at the woman again. "Good day, ma'am. You got room for two weary travellers?"

Without saying a word, the woman handed them a form to fill in and pointed at a sign saying 'Cash only.'

"Wow, easy on the small talk there, lady." Joking, Dean hoped to elicit some kind of response and gave the woman one of his most charming smiles.

Remaining almost frozen to the spot, not moving a single muscle in her face or body, the woman didn't respond to Dean's charm offence.

"Dean…" Nudging Dean in his side, Sam was in a rush to get away from the desk as soon as possible to share his suspicions about the woman with his brother.

"I know, Sammy, I know."

Inarticulately, Dean urged his brother to patience while he finished signing them up. He took some cash from his wallet and tossed it on the counter. If she'd been some psycho ghost who wanted to kill them, she would've done that by now, so he figured they were safe. For the moment being, anyway. Besides, all ghosts and other beings just had to wait until he had a refreshing shower.

Then the woman lit up a candle and showed them the way, lights flickering wherever she passed. The corridors seemed endless and worn out, like a desert storm swept through them, blasting away most of the paint. There were voices down the corridor, too soft to be human. Or maybe they just came from another part of the hotel, to distant to hear them clearly.

_Welcome to the Hotel California,  
Such a lovely place, (Such a lovely place) Such a lovely face  
Plenty of room at the Hotel California,  
Any time of year, (Any time of year) You can find it here  
_

A soft, female voice whispered to Dean, "Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place, such a lovely face."

Rubbing his face, Dean wondered if his imagination got the best of him, or whether the drowsiness washing over him played tricks with his mind.

Another melodious voice sighed, "Plenty of room at the Hotel California, any time of year, you can find it here."

"Dean? You hear that too?" His eyes travelling all over the place, Sam wasn't able to spot anyone else besides them and their ghostly guide.

"Yeah, Sammy. It seems we've got some work to do around here. But not before I've had my shower."

Sometimes Dean wondered how they got caught up in this life. The endless hunts for demons, ghosts, evil things and all the other wickedness out there, blunted him. Being normal seemed so long ago, he wouldn't even know how to act like it anymore. The thrill of the kill was satisfying and he loved the feel of the adrenalin pumping through his veins, but more and more he was left behind feeling hollow and empty.

There was hardly ever any time left to sit down, relax and really think about it though. Even when they had some time off, Dean was never at ease. He kept scanning the area for potential danger. Anyone or anything that seemed suspicious wouldn't disappear from his sight without him knowing about it. Any threat to his family was eliminated as soon as possible. Better safe than sorry.

For now, they had to get through this night, had to survive yet another challenge and overcome another obstacle on the way to find their father back.

* * *

After a slightly disappointing shower with lukewarm, brownish water sputtering into a mouldy bathroom, Dean stepped into the hotel room revived, wearing nothing but a towel. Drops of water still nestled in the tiny dips just above his collarbones and butt, whereas other droplets found their way over his tanned, sculpted torso.

"Sam?" Flicking through his duffel bag, Dean sought out a pair of tight boxers and a clean T-shirt. After approving the green shirt held out in front of him, Dean allowed his eyes to travel over to the bed where Sam lay. "Sammy?"

Strolling over to the bed, the volume of the soft snoring and gargling noises increased with every step Dean took. Sam was exhausted from the heat and the long, boring trip and had dozed off into a much needed slumber.

Barely able to suppress the urge to wake his brother loudly, Dean decided to take a look around the hotel and see if there was a way to relax. The only way to forget about all the evil that happened in his life, was to get wasted and laid.

_Delirium and dames__… Yup, no better way to get through a lonely night than the combination of those two._

After pulling the shirt down over his head, Dean dropped the towel from his waist onto the pale floor. Bare butted he retrieved the boxers he'd already lain out on his bed and wrenched them over his muscular legs, wrapping up his tight buns while he was already breaking into a sweat again. Pretty soon his jeans covered up his legs entirely. The gun tucked behind his waistband added the final touch and finally made him feel dressed completely.

One last stare over his shoulder at Sam, and Dean closed the door to their room behind him.

* * *

_Her mind is Tiffany-twisted,  
She got the Mercedes Benz,  
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys  
she calls friends  
How they dance in the courtyard,  
Sweet summer sweat  
Some dance to remember,  
Some dance to forget  
_

Wandering through the corridors of the hotel, Dean couldn't help but notice the flickering lights that surrounded him and the voices that kept whispering to him, like they'd done before.

_Man, I desperately need to relax__. Ignoring the lights, ignoring the voices… Those freaking ghosts will still be dead tomorrow anyway. Besides, College Boy went out like a light, and without the Research Department I kinda feel amputated. Since I'm planning on using *all* my parts tonight, the hunt's off. Well, the hunt's on, but for something nice, soft and feminine, something like…_

A slender looking brunette revealed her perfect teeth in an enticing smile, long thick hair cascading over her bare shoulders. Hugging her tiny but curvy figure, the red halter dress made her glow like a lighthouse amidst the otherwise colourless courtyard.

Surrounded by quite a few admirers, the girl was obviously enjoying herself, wrapping the men around her slender finger.

"Oh, I simply *love* Tiffany's!" Patting one of the men's shoulders, the girl's eyes beamed with enthusiasm when she spoke.

When the song _'Lady in Red'_ by Chris de Burgh echoed through the sultry summer air, one of the men took her hand and guided her towards the centre of the courtyard. No doubt he was hoping to have a chance on seducing her with his dancing skills. The scent of sweet summer sweat penetrated Dean's nostrils, but it wasn't the gross kind of sweat, no, it was the musky, tantalizing kind.

_I__ wonder if she's dancing with the guy to remember a beautiful, loving night with someone special, or maybe to forget about her crappy, everyday life, just like me._ _But, the way she's dressed to kill, tells me she's looking for a good time._

Lurking from the shadows, leaning against the doorpost, Dean observed the girl carefully. He would love to push her long hair aside, and gently brush his lips along her neckline.

His green eyes slowly travelled over her body, appraising the view of her long, slim legs all the way down until his stare reached her killer heels. Swallowing away a lump in his throat, Dean's thoughts revolved around one thing only for a moment.

_Fuck,__ she could do some serious damage to some poor, unsuspecting bloke, with those heels…_

She looked dangerous, beautiful, independent and classy at the same time. All in all, she was *exactly* his type and he was gonna make damn sure she knew it before the evening was over.

_I __wonder if the classic Merc outside belongs to her, she seems a hell of a lot brighter and more tasteful than those toy boys anyway._

When the girl and guy broke their dance off at the last tones off the song, Dean stepped out of the safety of his hiding place and strolled across the courtyard to make his move.

"So, what's up with all the pretty boys?" He asked her.

"Pretty boys? Oh, they're just friends, you know." Impossibly green eyes travelled over Dean's face and body, while the girl's head nodded slightly approving.

Granting the girl an unabashed smirk, Dean was well aware of his victory when she stared him in the eye. Sometimes it bummed him out that all he had to do was look at them and they'd give in to him. It even surprised him at times when girls *didn't* fall for his appearance, or charms even.

_Call __me cocky, call me confident, but the ladies dig me and it comes in damn handy sometimes!_

"Duvessa." The girl held out her hand to make Dean's acquaintance.

"Dean. And the pleasure's all mine, I can assure you that." Practically undressing her with his eyes, Dean felt almost sorry he had to let go of her hand.

Strawberry red lips formed themselves into a surprised 'O' before curling into a mischievous grin again. "Why you…"

Pouting his curvy lips, Dean melted at the spot at the sound of her Southern drawl, he was a sucker for accents. For a moment he closed his eyes to pray to a God he didn't even believe in anymore after all the evil he'd witnessed in his life.

_Damn__…Most Southern women are quite feisty, I'm gonna have my hands full on this one tonight, if I'm right. Please God, let me be right… Please? I swear I'll help ya get rid of those evil suckers, if you just let me be right tonight._

Ready to make his move, Dean cooked up his game-plan.

_I'll flash her a charming smile, give her a few compliments, look her deep in the eye and BAM! She's mi-_

"So Dean, how about we continue this up in my room?" Blood red fingernails followed the line of his masculine jaws, while her strawberry red lips hovered only inches away from his sculpted mouth, driving him crazy with desire. Eyeing Dean over her shoulder, Duvessa hip rocked her way out of the courtyard, beckoning Dean to follow her with her index finger.

_What the fuck just happened here? Damn, she's quick! __Normally, this is the part where *I* sweep them off their feet and lure them into my bed…This is too easy, even for me! Yeah well, whatever. _

_Oh…and um, thank you God, you know, for letting me be right._

Playfully, Dean winked up at the sky to who- or whatever had granted him his wish, clicked his tongue and hurried after his temptress before she had a change of heart.

_

* * *

_

_So I called up th_e Captain  
"Please bring me my wine"  
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here  
Since nineteen sixty-nine"  
And still those voices are calling from far away,  
Wake you up in the middle of the night  
Just to hear them say…

Following Duvessa's unbelievably perfect butt through the corridors, Dean was too distracted to notice the flickering lights around them. His mind was too busy taking in the view that his eyes gladly feasted on. A coy smile adorned her face when she opened up the door to her room and let Dean in. Cautiously, he took a few steps inside the room and inspected the surroundings. Her room was just as crappy as theirs, but thankfully he wasn't here to enjoy the lack of scenery plastered on the walls. Closing the door behind him, Dean's eyes lingered on Duvessa who was taking her earrings off.

"Make yourself comfortable, okay? Oh, and order us some wine, if you will. I'll be right back." Her Southern drawl was accompanied by an innocent but provocative stare and drove Dean over the edge.

Disappearing into the bathroom, Duvessa left Dean no choice but to wait for his turn. Trying to distract himself and kill the waiting time, he decided to call up the reception and order some wine like Duvessa asked him to.

"Yeah, this is room… um… Fuck, I don't even know the room number of this--"

"Don't worry sir, we're able to trace the call back to your room number. May I be of assistance to you?" A voice on the other side of the line spoke to Dean politely.

"Yeah, can you send up some wine or something?"

"We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty-nine. But we've got a special drink for you, sir. It's on the house. We'll send someone along shortly."

_Welcome to the Hotel California,  
Such a lovely place, (Such a lovely place) Such a lovely face  
They're livin' it up at the Hotel California,  
What a nice surprise, (What a nice surprise) Bring your alibis  
_

Before Dean had a chance to answer the man on the other end of the line, the line became static. Through the static's, Dean could clearly make out the whispering female voices he'd heard earlier today in the corridors.

"Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place, such a lovely face."  
"They're livin' it up at the Hotel California, what a nice surprise, bring your alibis."

"What the fuck?" Staring at the phone hook in his hand, Dean startled when a soft knock at the door was audible. "Damn, that's fast!"

Jumping up, he tossed the hook back on the phone and got to his feet to open up the door.

"Your drink, sir, compliments from the hotel. Enjoy." Bowing gracefully, an elderly man rolled a cart through the doorway, turned on his heels and left swiftly but silently again.

* * *

_Mirrors on the ceiling,  
The pink champagne on ice, and she said:  
"We are all just prisoners here,  
Of our own device__."  
_

Staring at the ceiling, Dean discovered Duvessa's room had one perk to theirs: there were mirrors on the ceiling. Raising his eyebrow approvingly, he imagined their entangled bodies staring back down at them.

_D__oubled pleasure, thanks to our reflections just a few feet above us._

Picking up the bottle from its cooler, surprise settled on Dean's face for a moment. Its contents looked suspiciously like *pink* champagne.

"No way I'm drinking this Barbie-crap! She's gotta imprison me inside the room first."

Putting the bottle back inside its cooler, Dean looked up in the direction of the bathroom when he heard Duvessa's Southern drawl articulate again in the most seductive way.

"We're all just prisoners here, aren't we? Of our own device." Hip rocking, Duvessa came out of the bathroom dressed in nothing but a short, flaming red baby doll and black scarf.

"Oh yeah, darlin', couldn't agree with ya more. We build our own prisons alright… But by the looks of it, you could definitely set me free." Tugging at the neckline of his shirt, Dean tried to cool himself down a little from the hot flashes she sent soaring through his body.

_Damn, h__er name should've been 'Sexy on Legs' instead of Duvessa._

"How 'bout I tie you up first, darlin'?" Ambling over to Dean, Duvessa seized one end of the black scarf, its silky fabric slithered down from her neck.

"Bring it on babe, bring it on!" Ignoring the little voice in the back of his head warning him this could be some sort of trap, Dean got rid of his T-shirt as fast as humanly possible.

Hugging Dean's stripped trunk with her scarf, Duvessa's intense red lips sought out Dean's sinfully sculpted ones in a subtle kiss. Eagerly, he answered her kiss with a kiss of his own. Crashing his lips onto hers forcefully, he thrust his tongue inside her hot, wet mouth to finally be able to clench his thirst for her.

_Oh fuck, s__he tastes so sweet and so good it's almost evil. I can't wait to taste *all* of her…_

Unable to stop her, Duvessa pushed a backwards staggering Dean to the bed, while their lips and tongues kept teasing and probing each the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, Dean couldn't keep his balance and fell onto the bed, face up. Straddling him, Duvessa clutched his wrists one by one and used her scarf to tie them to the metal bars of the bed's iron head end.

"Oh man, you're wicked." The rush Dean felt at being left to the mercy of his potential lover, turned him on very hard. The downside hit him just as fast though.

_Fuck, I wanna touch her! _

"You have no idea..." Boring her eyes deep into his, green melted into green with the golden shine of liquid passion.

Watching every move she made, Dean waited helplessly for her to make her next step. Sitting upright, her eyes unlocked themselves from Dean's when she reached beside the bed. Picking up the bottle of champagne, she poured them two tall glasses of the pink bubbly liquid.

"Sit up, and have a drink with me, Dean." Squatting, so Dean could wriggle himself upwards a little, Duvessa held out the drink.

"Thanks, I'm not that into champagne." Shaking his head, Dean curled up his lip.

_Especially__ not the Barbie kind._

"Oh come on, just a few sips. For little ol' me?"

Whether it was her Southern drawl, pleading eyes or his submissive position that did it, Dean caved in big time. "What the hell. Bring it on."

Dangling the pink bubbly right underneath Dean's nose, Duvessa brought the rim of the glass in sync with Dean's luscious lips. Tilting the glass back slightly, she poured the girly looking drink through his firm, perfectly chiselled mouth opening in dosed nips.

_Hmmm, d__oesn't taste so bad after all…_

When the glass had been emptied, Duvessa's face curled into a big smile.

"Good boy. Now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

* * *

Awakened by his own snoring, Dean shot up and adjusted his eyes to the light. Though he woke up in a different room almost every single day, he still felt disoriented when he opened his eyes. The bed beside him was empty, but that was a sight he was used to by now. Dean would usually go out for a drink and preferably a quick lay, while Sam was catching up on his sleep.

Yawning and unfolding his limbs, a quick glance at his watch told Sam it was almost three a.m. Before he actually had time to wonder whether or not he should go out and make sure Dean was safe, sleep took his brain and body over again. Curled up on the bed, Sam nodded off into a restless sleep, plagued by nightmares about Jessica once more.

* * *

Rays of sun seeping through the worn down, once velvety curtains playfully touched Dean's face. Feeling slightly hung over, Dean squinted his eyes against the bright lights that awakened him so brutally. Confused, he tried to recollect the night before.

_Where the fuck am I? Man, my head hurts! _

Trying to stop the pounding of his brain, Dean placed the palm of his hand against his forehead when he heard a familiar Southern drawl coming from the bathroom.

"It's the champaign, don't worry darlin'. I've got just the remedy for that."

Completely naked, not displaying the slightest feeling of awkwardness or insecurity, Duvessa popped back into Dean's sight and greeted him like a purring kitten. "Morning."

_Wow, she looks damn hot… __God, it's a shame I can't remember what the hell happened last night!_

"Mornin'…" Dean's voice skipped and sounded kind of scratchy. Curling up one of end of his mouth, he gave her an approving grin. He rested his cheek on his knuckles and bent his arm down to lean on an elbow. "So… That was a hell of a ride yesterday…"

_Oh man I hope she's gonna let me know what went down here! I'm such an *idiot*! _

"It sure was, darlin'. You're *all* man, that's for sure." Slowly striding over to the bed where Dean lay watching her, Duvessa swung the thick locks of hair -obscuring her chest from Dean's vision- back in a confident move.

_H__er tits are perfect! Wow, down boy!_

Trying not to come off too willing, Dean bit his knuckles excruciatingly fierce to suppress his lust. He wasn't sure what they did last night and didn't want to risk a punch in the face.

Sitting down on the bed beside him, Duvessa poured him another glass of the pink bubbly and held it out. "Drink this. It's gonna cure your hangover, trust me."

Furrowing his brow, Dean eyed the glass like it was some kind of poison. "Look, it's not my habit to start drinking first thing in the morni--"

"One sip, I promise that'll make the pain go away. Please?" Interrupting him, Duvessa pouted her strawberry red lips and batted her eyelashes, beseeching Dean to take a sip.

_Something tells me I shouldn't, but hey, how can I resist those lips, those eyes, that body?_

After emptying the pink bubbly drink in one big swig, Dean wiped his luscious lips clean with the back of his hand. Almost instantaneously his headache disappeared. "Wow, good stuff indeed. My headache's gone!"

"I'd never lie to you, Dean, I just couldn't."

Seizing the empty glass from Dean's hand, Duvessa put it beside the bed and crawled over to Dean on knuckles and knees. Long dark locks of hair tickled his burly chest as her face edged closer to his. When her lips were inches away from his, Dean encircled her tiny waist with his hands and flipped her over so he was hovering over her.

"How 'bout some of those little lies, you know, the sexy kind?" With a husky voice Dean whispered into her ear, his plump lips brushing over her soft skin.

"Every sexy thing I could think of to say to you would be true, sugar." Now it was her turn to brush her silky soft lips over his ear whilst using her Southern pronunciation.

_What a woman…_

* * *

**End of part I**

_Feedback would be greatly appreciated! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I've only seen the first season so far, so forgive me if anything's… out of the ordinary or maybe even familiar-sounding._

_A/N: Dean's thoughts are in italics, as well as the original lyrics._

_

* * *

_"**Hotel California"**

**Part II**

**By Lady(dragon) Guinevere**

Showered and dressed, his hair still sleek and wet, Sam dialled Dean's number to find out where he was. It was already 12 in the afternoon and both of them slept in way beyond their usual hours.

After redialling a couple of times, Dean finally answered the phone.

"Dean? You okay? You coming back any time soon? We've got some business to take care of, you know."

A very relaxed Dean answered, "Neah, you just go ahead. I'm fine."

"What are you talking about, Dean? We've gotta sort this out and then we've gotta be on our way again! You get your butt in here as soon as pos--" Sam was pointing at the phone like he would've done to Dean, had he been around in person.

Dean interrupted him calmly. "Relax Dean, relax. You know, I was thinking, maybe we should stick around a little longer here."

"What? What do you mean? You're the one who's always in a rush to get out, remember? We gotta find dad, Dean! We've gotta find the demon!" Pacing around the room, Sam gestured wildly with his free arm.

"And we will, Sammy. But it can wait a couple o' more days. Take some time off, College Boy, and relax."

"Dean? Where are you exactly? Tell me where you are. I'm coming over."

Sam stopped dead and awaited Dean's answer. Knowing Dean, he was usually in a great rush to get out of his conquest's room at the first sign of daylight, so this was unusual. Plus, Dean was always the first to continue their search for dad and the demon.

"I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. Having the time of my life, bro. You should too!"

"Dean… I um, I wrecked your car…." Putting Dean to the test, Sam knew his brother would get *really* pissed if he'd so much as put a *scratch* on his car.

"Don't worry, Sammy. It's just a car. It'll be fine."

For a moment Sam was dumbstruck. Either that wasn't Dean on the other end of the line, or something took over his brother. Anyway, the *real* Dean wouldn't react like that. "Dean? Just tell me where you are, please."

"Dunno, little brother. Look, gotta go. We'll talk later, okay?"

Before Sam could respond, Dean had broken off their conversation.

Grabbing some weapons and the EMF-reader, Sam burst out of the room to get his brother back from the claws of evil.

* * *

Holding out the EMF-reader, Sam scouted through the corridors and available rooms of the hotel. Of course, the lights weren't flickering anymore and the voices were nowhere to be heard. He needed to find Dean, without him he felt amputated in a way. Every once in a while people crossed his path, and Sam asked them if they'd seen his brother. So far, every single person he'd encountered had shaken his or head in denial.

When he reached the courtyard after what seemed hours later, some pretty boys were lounging around in their seats, sipping a girly looking drink. All of them were dressed in tuxedos, like they hadn't gone to bed since the night before. When Sam asked them about Dean, they actually responded positive.

"We saw someone like him, yeah. He took off with Duvessa, lucky son of a bitch."

"Duvessa?" Trying to hide his happiness, Sam was thrilled he'd finally gotten a lead.

"Yeah, she's one of the regulars here. Didn't you see her Merc outside? Anyway, I suppose they went back to her room. Haven't seen them since."

"So, you guys happen to know her room number?"

"Somewhere on the third floor. Not sure where exactly."

"Okay, thanks you guys. Oh hey, if he does show up, tell him to call his brother, okay?"

Eager to resume his quest, Sam shot out the courtyard and ran up the stairs like a bolt of lightning.

Taking the EMF-reader out of his pocket again, Sam began to scan the corridors on the third floor. For a very long time, the blips didn't light up the slightest bit. Disappointed, Sam continued his search for his brother when all of a sudden the EMF-reader went crazy right in front of door number thirteen.

"What a cliché…" Sam mumbled to himself, before continuing clearly audible, "Room service!" A modest knock on the door accompanied his words.

The door swung open and Sam stared right into Dean's green eyes.

"Sammy? What are you doing here?" Dressed in nothing but his tight boxers, flaunting his perfectly muscular, tanned shape, Dean's face exhibited surprise.

"You're coming with me, Dean. Now." Reaching out to grab Dean's fore arm, Sam didn't care about his brother's lack of garment.

"What the fuck? I told you I'm okay. I'm not leaving." Forcefully, Dean retracted his arm from his brother's firm grip and tried to shut the door in his face.

Shoving his foot between the door opening, Sam rammed his way inside the room, partially tripping over Dean.

"Darlin'? What's happening?" Duvessa's Southern drawl came from the bathroom.

"Nothing, Duvessa. Room service is being a little obnoxious, that's all." Dean tried to shove Sam in the direction of the door again, but Sam didn't give in.

"You're in trouble, Dean! Look, the EMF-reader is going ballistic!" Showing Dean the red flashing lights and the audible blips on the EMF-reader, didn't have the effect Sam was going for.

"So?"

"So? You're locked inside a room with some evil thing, and you don't want to leave! Doesn't that strike you as *odd*?" Sam was feeling very frustrated that Dean didn't see the seriousness of his situation.

"No one here but me and Duvessa, so." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Dean stood his ground.

"I wanna see her." Maybe Dean was hypnotized or something, Sam wanted to see this woman with his own eyes to make sure she wasn't evil.

"You can't. She's mine." A snarl came over Dean's lips.

"I'm not leaving until I do, Dean."

"Fine." Turning around abruptly, Dean stalked into the bathroom and came out dragging Duvessa by her hand.

At first, Sam didn't see anything unusual about her. Unusually sexy and beautiful she was though, and it took him aback for a brief moment. Someone this gorgeous had to be too good to be true.

"Satisfied now?" Dean bellowed at his brother, the grim expression settling on his face was alarming. Flaring nostrils gave off a warning to anyone who dared to step closer, brother or not.

_Nobody messes with Duvessa! NOBODY!_

When Duvessa blinked, Sam swore he saw a black gleam in her eyes. He'd never seen Dean this possessive about anyone before. Not even about his car.

"Sam will be leaving us now, so you can finish whatever it was you were doing, babe."

As soon as Duvessa disappeared from their sight, Sam tried to convince Dean again about his blunder. "She's evil, Dean. You gotta come with me, please."

"I told you, I'm not leaving here, unless it's involuntarily."

"Have it your way." Shrugging his shoulders, Sam hated what he had to do next, but Dean left him no choice. "I'm sorry, brother."

In the blink of an eye, Sam retrieved the gun from behind his waistband and hit Dean on the head with its grip.

"Hey!" Dean bellowed again. "What the fuck are you doing to me, Sammy?" Rubbing his painful head, he sent Sam a fuming stare.

_Now I'm pissed!_

"Shit…" Unprepared for this outcome, Sam figured Dean would collapse right away. He should've known better, Dean was a tough cookie. Resentfully, Sam hit his brother on the head again and watched him crumple to the floor, finally.

* * *

His head hammering even harder than it'd done that same morning, Dean regained his consciousness. Trying to sit up, he was jerked back by the ropes that were tied around his wrists and ankles. "What the fuck?"

Opposite the bed, Sam watched his older brother carefully. "Sorry about this, Dean. But I *had* to tie you up, you weren't being reasonable."

"Not reasonable? Just wait until I'm free again!" Dean bawled without even knowing why he felt so aggressive.

"You see? That's what I mean! One minute you're all relaxed, and _I'm okay, Sam, don't worry about me._" Sam mimicked his brother in a high pitched voice and continued, "And the next minute you're totally aggressive and possessive!"

"Yeah? Well, it's just who I am, so you better get used to it, Sammy." The corner of Dean's lip curled up so high that 'Sammy' sounded more like a growl than its usual concerned pronunciation.

"No Dean, it's not who you are. Something's different, and I'm gonna find out what. I want you to tell me exactly what happened last night." Tossing and catching Dean's knife in his hand, Sam hoped to intimidate Dean at least a little.

"Dunno. Honestly. Haven't the fuzziest. Wish I did though, 'cause she's some piece of work, that woman." Closing his eyes, Dean savoured the memories of Duvessa.

_Luckily I still recall this mornin'…_

"So, what happened? You drank too much? Passed out?"

"No, don't think so. Just had a glass of that Barbie champagne, that's all."

"Oh, the pink drink, you mean." Thinking hard, Sam tried to recall where else he'd seen that drink and then he remembered. "Those guys in the courtyard were sipping it too."

"Yeah, Duvessa made me order champagne but they sent this instead. On the house, the guy said." Stretching out his neck to look Sam in the eye felt extremely uncomfortable due to the tugging of the ropes, so Dean tossed his head back in defeat.

"Come on Sammy, untie me." His dark voice sounded drenched with persuasion.

"Sorry, Dean. I know you're gonna go back to her and I know something's wrong. It's like she's got you under some spell or something. Maybe… it's the pink stuff. I didn't drink it, and I saw the black gleam in her eyes. Maybe it's some sort of drug that hides the truth. And if they *are* drugs, you're gonna be in a lot of fun, kicking the habit and all." Thinking out loud, Sam took his eyes off Dean and started to browse the internet for an answer.

_What the fuck does he mean? Drugs? The pink stuff? But I can't be addicted this soon?_

"Did you experience any unordinary signs this morning?"

"Like what? My hard-on? Or maybe the beautiful woman that lay beside me, instead of your snoring ass?" While speaking, Dean tried to wrench his wrists and ankles free from their bounds, but unfortunately Sam knew his knots.

"Ha ha. Easy on the sarcasm, bro." Sam divided his attention between Dean and his laptop screen. "Listening to you jerk off almost every night isn't that fun either."

_Oh man, he can *hear* me do that? Fuck… That is so… fucked up!_

"Yeah Dean, it's freaky, I know." Arching an eyebrow, Sam fixed his stare on Dean. "But I meant signs like a headache, sweating, trembling of muscles, that kinda stuff."

"Dude, you sure you're not still talking about the jerking off?" A smirk adorned Dean's face.

"Dean…" Sam urged his brother to be serious.

"What? You started it!"

_Man, I gotta leave. I gotta see Duvessa. Who gives a shit about this stuff anyway?_

"Did you, or did you not experience any of these signs, Dean?"

"If I tell you, will you untie me?" Dean tried to bargain his way out.

"No. If I'm right, then you've gotta stay here a couple of more hours. You can't be *that* addicted yet since it's only been a few hours, but if it's something supernatural we're dealing with here, you never know. But you're going 'cold turkey' whether you like it or not."

"What? No, no, no. Untie me, Sam, NOW." Dean roared like a lion, *ordering* Sam to do what he told him, just like his old man used to. And just like his old man, he expected Sam to take *his* orders now.

Honestly, Sam was somewhat intimidated by Dean. He'd never really beaten him in a fight 'cause he was strong as hell. And whatever influenced him now, made him even more aggressive and unpredictable. He'd probably lose it completely when the drugs started to wear off and Sam wasn't sure he wanted to witness that.

* * *

_I'm gonna die…_

"Sammy, no, please help me…"

"Give me something, anything…"

"I can't take this anymore!"

Raving, Dean flung his head from the left side to the right side of the bed, beads of sweat clinging to his face and body. The trembling of his limbs was somewhat subdued by the ropes tied around his wrists and ankles, but he strained them so fierce that the ropes were scraping off the skin and branded him.

"Ssshhh…"

Sitting next to his brother, Sam dabbed Dean's head with a cold washcloth. He'd seen his brother deadly ill more than once, but this was extremely hard to watch. He knew Dean was a fighter, so he knew he'd make it, but a lesser man probably wouldn't have survived this.

"Please Sammy… Help me…" Dean's voice sounded awfully weak and powerless while his body quivered from head to toe.

"Sshhh, I'm here. Hang in there, Dean."

_Can't…do…it… anymore..._

* * *

_And in the master's chambers  
They gathered for the feast,  
They stab it with their steely knives,  
But they just can't kill the beast_

After a couple of hours, Dean finally seemed to calm down. The sweating ended, the trembling seized and he stopped tossing his head from the left to the right. In fact, the peace and quiet were nerve wrecking. Every couple of minutes, Sam took a break from his research and ambled over to the bed where Dean lay dead still. Studying the movement of his chest, Sam made sure Dean was still breathing. Helplessness washed over him, but he knew Dean had gotten through the worst part already.

Surfing the internet taught Sam that the lyrics from 'Hotel California' were based upon a local legend. A desert located hotel in the area, was said to be haunted by some sort of spirit. Browsing the local newspaper archives online showed several cases of missing people. All of them crossed through these parts and easily could've spent the night in this hotel.

One missing person caught his eye in particular; a young woman, driving a silver coloured Mercedes Benz -just like the one parked outside- went missing in the 50's. There was no mistaking, her name was different but it was Duvessa. Calculating what her age should be now, Sam scrunched his nose when he realised her true age.

"Yuck… Not bad for someone her age though."

Snickering, Sam couldn't wait to tell his brother that the sexy woman he'd slept with was really an 80-year old...

Hoping he'd find the answer inside the lyrics, Sam went over and over them again, encircling things that stood out, adding notes in the sidelines and recognizing many things Dean and he had already witnessed. Every detail matched so far, the smell of 'Colitas', the ringing of the mission bell, the woman lighting up a candle to show them the way, the voices. Just like the Merc, the pretty boys in their tuxedos, the wine that couldn't be delivered, the mirrored ceiling and the pink champagne.

According to these lyrics, they needed to find the master's chambers where a feast would take place. "Wait, didn't one of these brochures say something about--" Talking to himself, Sam went through the hotel brochures on the table. Scanning one of the flyers, Sam found the paragraph he was looking for.

'_Every Friday evening from 5 pm to 9 pm, there is an all-you-can-eat-buffet, following the tradition of the feast that used to be held here ever since the opening of this__ establishment. You will find the buffet in the old 'master's chambers', the dining room on the ground floor. __The buffet is included in your bill, and open to all of our guests.'_

"Thank God it's Friday!" Sam grinned.

The only thing that had him worried, were the next two phrases of the lyrics. According to those words, knives couldn't kill 'the beast'. He narrowed down the options of what they were dealing with here. Duvessa's appearance had remained the same since all these years, which probably meant she was possessed. So they had to perform an exorcism, in which case it was only logical knives didn't do the trick.

Startling Sam, Dean's scratchy voice resonated through the room suddenly. "Sammy?"

At the helplessness ringing through in that *one* word, Sam leapt to his feet and hurried to the bed. Pleased that his brother finally came back to his senses, Sam gave him the sweetest smile. "Hey Dean, how're you feeling?"

"Never been better." Back to being the smartass he was, Dean's eyes flicked from his wrists to his ankles. "You think you can untie me now?"

Insecure about the right thing to do, Sam hesitated for a moment. "Maybe I should run some tests first, to make sure you're yourself again."

"What tests?" Growing impatient, Dean was tired of lying around, doing nothing and being restrained by his bonds.

_Fuck this!_

"I'm not sure. You're not experiencing any strange signs anymore? Headache, trembling, sweating…" One finger tapping his lips, Sam took on a thinking pose.

"Nope, I'm fine. Just wanna get up, kill some demons and move on."

"So, what about Duvessa?"

"What about her?"

"You're not gonna get up and run over to her again?"

"Why would I do that? Sure, she was hot, but she's ancient history."

_I never stick around, can't afford to. Love 'em and leave 'em, that's my philosophy._

"You have no idea *how* ancient." A broad grin adorned Sam's face.

"What do you mean?" Arching his eyebrow, Dean stared at his brother as well as he could, hindered by the restraints, which made his chest partly block his vision.

"I mean, she's practically an antique." Increasing his laughter, Sam actually felt glad Dean was still tied up, otherwise he'd been in for a serious romp.

"An antique, Duvessa? Why didn't you tell me that before I--" Angrily, Dean broke off his sentence and thought back to what Duvessa and he'd been doing. "Oh man, that's really gross."

"Hey, don't blame me. I tried to tell you, I tried to save you, but you wouldn't listen!" Sam couldn't stop laughing.

"Ha ha, real funny. You're just jealous, bro. Now untie me."

Still amused, Sam started to untie his brother's ankles when Dean interrupted him. "Oh, and Sammy?"

"Yes Dean?"

"What about my *car*?"

_He's gonna be sorry if he __so much as *scratched* her!_

"What about it?"

Confused, Sam searched his brain to figure out what Dean meant, until it hit him flat in the face. He told Dean he'd wrecked his car, to test him. "Oh Dean, that was just to test you. You were so ridiculously relaxed, I just knew something happening to your car would send you right over the edge. But it didn't. Then I knew something was wrong."

"You sure?" Trying to stare Sam down, Dean wriggled his legs to ease the stiffness and get ready to jump to his feet, if necessary.

"Positive."

* * *

_Last thing I remember, I was running for the door,  
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before,  
"Relax," said the night man, "We are programmed to receive,  
You can check out anytime you like... but you can never leave"_

"We need to perform an exorcism to free the demon that houses inside Duvessa. I think we need to do it in the dining room, tonight." Closing the door to their room behind him, Sam sprinted through the corridors after Dean.

"In the dining room?" Over his shoulder, Dean cast his brother a surprised look.

"Yeah, I know it sounds strange, but so far everything happened according to the lyrics of 'Hotel California'."

"I hate to break it to ya, but in the lyrics they're not able to kill 'the beast'."

"No, they're not able to kill it with their knives, which makes sense, 'cause we've gotta exorcise her."

Hurrying past the reception desk, Dean reached for the doors and wanted to open them. They were closed solid though. "What the hell?" He started to budge his shoulder into the door, but it didn't give in.

"They're shut?" Raising both eyebrows, Sam watched Dean's unsuccessful moves.

"No, I just thought I'd bruise my shoulder a bit, goes along nicely with the bruises and grazes on my wrists and ankles." Dean sent his brother a filthy stare. "Seriously?"

"Don't get pissed at me, I'm not the one who shut the doors, Dean!"

"Damnit!"

Pacing around in circles, Dean tried to come up with a plan while Sam walked over to the reception desk and rang the reception bell.

Dressed in a blue uniform, the old man wearing it had a wrinkled face and a pale complexion. A faded tag dangling from his chest pocket read 'Night man'. Slowly, he shuffled forward to the desk. "Yes son, what can I do for you?"

"Could you open the doors for us? They're locked, apparently." Restlessly Sam hopped from one leg to another, he hated wasting precious time.

"Relax," said the night man, "We are programmed to receive. You can check out anytime you like... but you can never leave."

Bursting to the reception desk, Dean firmly grabbed the old man by his collar and bellowed at him, only inches away from his face, "What the fuck are you talking about, old man?"

"I'm just saying, you can get in, but you can't get out." Remaining annoyingly calm, the old man shrugged his shoulders.

Prying Dean's clutching hands loose from the night man, was not an easy thing to do, but Sam succeeded. "Dean, back off. It's not his fault."

"Not his fault? He's got keys, doesn't he?" His full weight crashing onto Sam's hands which were holding him back, Dean tried to step forward again and reach for the night man's key ring.

"Look…" Stepping in front of the night man, Sam attempted to keep Dean from attacking the old man once more. "Why don't we *ask* him if we can have the keys?"

_Fuck him and his manners, I can't help it I'm a fighter!_

Jumping from the left to the right, trying to look past Sam at the night man, Dean finally looked up at Sam and froze to the spot. "So, ask him!"

Turning his back on Dean, Sam asked the night man for his key ring. Without contradicting, the old man handed him the keys. Striding over to the door with Dean in his wake, Sam fidgeted with the keys. Attempting to pry every single key in the lock, Sam got more and more nervous when he almost ran out of keys. When the last key wouldn't fit either, he turned to look at Dean.

"It's not working. Either the right key's lost, or the door is protected by some kind of spell."

"Give me those." Grabbing the set of keys from Sam's hand, Dean tried each and everyone out for himself. "Fuck!" Admitting his defeat, he started to pace around again.

"Okay, let's think. Do we really need things from our car to do the exorcism? Maybe we can find the words online, and I'm sure someone in here's got a rosary. I wanna bet once we've exorcised her, the doors will open up again." It wasn't their first exorcism, and Sam knew what they needed.

"Okay, you do the research, print out the words, and I'll find a rosary. Meet you in the dining room?" Relieved he was able to *do* something, Dean's feet were itching to go for a walk.

"Sounds like a plan. See you later, Dean." Clutching the laptop underneath his arm, Sam took off to the privacy of their room.

"Later."

* * *

The buffet looking amazing, Dean had never seen anything like it in his life. Every possible food that existed must have been present. Most of the dining tables were occupied and the room buzzed with voices. Duvessa was nowhere to be seen yet, neither was Sam.

Filling up a plate with some delicious looking, bloody stake and jacket potatoes, Dean didn't see any harm in mixing business with pleasure. If he had to wait for Sam, he might as well do so enjoying his favourite dish. Scanning the place for an empty table, Dean sauntered past the bar to get himself a beer.

"How about our special house drink, sir? You should give it a try, it's so delicious you'll never want to leave again."

_And go through another sweaty, delirious night, tied up to the bed? No thank you!_

"Thanks, a beer's the safest choice for me right now." Bestowing the bartender an extremely fake grin, Dean clicked his tongue and sat down at the spot he'd had his eyes on.

Shoving big chunks of meat in his mouth, Dean talked to himself. "This stuff's *damn* good." For an instant, he forgot his surroundings or task and simply enjoyed the taste of the meat.

"I see you're preparing yourself for battle." Out of nowhere, Sam appeared next to his brother. Scrunching up his nose, he watched Dean chuck the huge masses of meat and potatoes. "You eat like a pig, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Sammy!" Granting his brother a broad grin, Dean also granted Sam a good look at the vast amount of undigested food clinging to his teeth and hovering in his mouth. "So glad you could join me! Grab a plate." Not bothering to swallow his food before talking, Dean continued pissing his brother off.

"I'm good. I just lost my appetite anyway, so." Still eyeing Dean like he was some sort of dingy demon, Sam lowered himself onto a seat next to him. "So, I got the text. You got the rosary?"

"Yup," Extracting the rosary from his jeans pocket, Dean dangled it in front of his brother's face. "Had to turn on the old charm to get it, but you know me." Again, a smirk slid across Dean's face.

"Only too well. You'll fuck an 80-year old woman if that's what it takes…" Tearing himself up with laughter, Sam awaited Dean's response.

"Shut up, Sammy." Pointing the fork at Sam's eyes in a hostile way, Dean wasn't amused. "Believe me, if I'd known…" Staring at his plate, Dean didn't even see what was on it anymore.

"Speaking of 80-year olds… Did you see her walker parked in here already?" Stretching out his neck to be able to see more, Sam sashayed his eyes over the dining and chatting crowd.

"Shut up. Haven't seen her." Shoving the plate away, Dean clutched the bottle of beer in his hand and his full lips enclosed the bottle opening. Knocking back the refreshing drink in just a few swigs, Dean smacked the empty bottle on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, now what?"

"We wait for Duvessa. That's all we can do."

"We're in luck, bro." Looking past Sam, Dean pointed towards the entrance of the dining room at the beautiful brunette entering. "Damn, she's smoking."

"Okay, we gotta get near her without being seen. She knows we're on to her, so we gotta keep a low profile." Getting up, Sam ambled over in Duvessa's direction, in the wake of some guy.

Following his brother's example, Dean did the same thing. Once they came close to Duvessa, they took a seat in between some people and each used one of their hands to try and hide their faces. Taking out the sheet of paper, Sam began to recite the Latin words in order to exorcise her. Next to him, Dean held the rosary in his hand and joined Sam in chanting, while moving his fingers from one bead to the next.

A few diner guests surrounding them, turned their heads and sent them odd looks.

"Don't mind us, we're just saying our prayers before diner." Trying to reassure them, Dean bestowed his fake grin upon them.

One of the diner guests got to his feet swiftly and scurried over to Duvessa. Leaning over, he whispered something in her ear that made her turn her head in Sam and Dean's direction.

"Fuck, we're busted." Feeling her eyes practically scorch his skin, Dean leapt to his feet, Sam followed his example.

"Keep chanting, Dean, no matter what." Looking over his shoulder anxiously, Sam scuttled alongside Dean, dividing his attention between the text and Duvessa who was chasing after them.

Their words kept sounding through the room, through the corridors, all the while Duvessa was on their tales. Their pace increased, door after door, until they stumbled upon a closed door at the end of a hallway. Their backs turned against the wall, they faced Duvessa with no way out anymore.

"Boys, boys, boys. What are you trying to do to me?" Hands on her hips, Duvessa stared the brothers in their eyes threateningly, even though her Southern voice sounded sweet as honey.

"Setting you free, and everyone else in this fucking hotel, that's what we're doing." Resting on the grip of his gun tucked behind his waistband, Dean's hand was itching to shoot some rock salt in Duvessa's face at the first wrong move she made.

"Dean, don't let her distract you, keep chanting with me." Nudging Dean in his side, Sam tried to focus on the words and not lose sight of Duvessa at the same time.

The Latin words echoed through the abandoned corridors again, bead after bead.

Closing in on them, Duvessa strode forward slowly. "Come on Dean, we had such a good time, darlin'." Extending her hand, she tried to convince Dean to stop.

_Yeah, that was *before* I knew you were an 80-year old demon, you freak!_

When Dean didn't respond to her plead, she swayed closer to him. Pressing her perfectly shaped body against his, she whispered in his ear. "Darlin', don't be so mean. You don't wanna piss me off, believe me."

Ignoring her words, Dean kept chanting together with Sam. He found himself short of hands, using one to handle the beads of the rosary, the other one ready to fire, and the third one would've come in handy to keep Duvessa away. Clinging to him like chewing gum, her hands trailing over his chest, face and hair, she got in the way of his activities and that pissed him off. When her fingernails started to scratch over his chest, ripping open his shirt, revealing freshly cut bloody tracks, he got even more pissed off.

"You bitch! Look what you did! That's my second favourite shirt!" Eyeing the scratch marks with disbelief, Dean told Sam, "Hold this, Sammy." Shoving the rosary in Sam's hands, Dean was relieved at having one more free hand.

Pushing Duvessa away with one hand, he reached for his gun with the other. Firing a blast of rock salt at her, he watched her flinch and let out a high pitched scream. Staggering backwards weakened, Duvessa eyed her red dress the same way Dean had eyed his ripped up chest.

Quickly, Dean started to chant along with Sam again. Shortly after, Duvessa opened up her mouth intensely wide, big black clouds shooting out, accompanied by a diabolic roar. Most of the corridor filled up with the black demonic clouds, until they disappeared through a tiny window opening, back to its source.

Her body collapsing to the floor, Duvessa was freed from the demon roaming her. Kneeling down by her side, Dean watched her face and body transform into that of an old woman unimaginably fast. Supporting her head, he felt sorry for her. Opening up her mouth, she tried to speak, but her eyeballs started spinning away. Abruptly, her head fell back, like her neck just gave in. Pressing his fingers upon her neck, Dean searched for a pulse but found nothing.

"She's gone." Dean's voice sounded hoarse.

"I kinda expected that. She *was* over 80 years old, and who knows what the demon put her body through. And aging *that* fast, it can't be good for anyone." Sam never quite got used to the innocent victims, whose bodies were used and discarded off by demons like old worn-down suits.

Scrambling to his feet, Dean looked down at the result of Duvessa's clawing fingernails again. "She was one feisty broad, that's for sure."

Strolling away from Duvessa through the endless corridors, Sam replied smirking.

"Yeah, for an 80-year old."

"Shut up, Sammy."

Starting to hum the melody to 'Hotel California', Sam stopped abruptly when Dean gave him a fuming stare. "What?"

"I *never* want to hear that fucking song again, you hear me?"

**The End**

* * *

_Feedback would be greatly appreciated!_


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